


Finding his place

by Selana



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Possibly Pre-Slash, Pre-Avengers (2012)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 02:52:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selana/pseuds/Selana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little glimpse into an op, very early in the professional relationship between Clint Barton and Phil Coulson - Clint begins to realize that Coulson actually values him as a person and not just as an asset. And he likes Coulson, it's nice to be treated as an equal for a change.</p><p>This story has been written for <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/lynxzpanther">lynxzpanther</a>, I hope it is what you wanted. Her prompt was: "Phlint would be awesome. Anything that goes into backstory or like their pre-avengers lives is currently what I’m addicted to, so that would be cool. :) Can there being something to do with magic? Because magic is awesome (when it’s not being used to, y’know, destroy the world. And even then it’s pretty cool.)"</p><p>I kind of got the magic into it, and it's definitely pre-slash, not a romantic relationship yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding his place

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, as always, to my wonderful beta [faeleverte](http://archiveofourown.org/users/faeleverte) who as always has been a great help into making this story readable.
> 
> Please leave comments to let me know what you think of this or any of the other stories in the series so far. I always love to hear from my readers, even if it is criticism - as long as it stays polite. You don't have to like my writing, you can certainly tell me when you don't like it, but mind your language, please.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just wish I would. So I just borrow them for some fun

Clint was crouching on a roof, hidden from curious eyes only by the fact that he had chosen the highest building around, there was nothing here to hide behind - or to use as shelter from the wind. He was using a rifle this time, the weather and distance unfortunately made the use of his beloved bow too risky. Perched near the edge, rifle pointing down (towards the most likely target area) he waited for his mark to appear. 

Had anyone been able to watch, Clint would have seemed patient and focussed on his task. His eyes stayed on the street, taking in everyone who came or went, trying to spot his target - without success, even if they were beyond their time frame already. Inwardly he was wondering what had gone wrong - his mark had not shown up where he was supposed to be. Instead there had been a middle aged woman with two teenagers in tow - the target’s wife and children. 

Dammit, according to their intel they shouldn’t even be in town, let alone in this area - something had gone horribly wrong here. But Coulson had ordered him to stay in place, the target might still show up. Clint couldn’t do anything but wait for new orders while Coulson was trying to find out why their information had been so wrong.

So here he was, alone, on a dirty rooftop, heavy gusts of wind tugging at his clothes. His eyes stayed trained on the front door of their target’s house, switching to his scope whenever someone came close to the entrance - no luck, none of those people were his target.

The more or less steady stream of information from Coulson in his ear was surprisingly calming, even if there wasn’t any news - this was the third op with Coulson as his handler, and Clint was still surprised at how different it was, how much better. True, he was still the eyes up high, the sniper, the one to take the kill shot. But with Coulson he was kept in the loop of everything happening that was related to their op, even if it wasn’t important for Clint to do his job. 

This was nice, he felt included for once, not just used for his unique skillset, but acknowledged as a person. And, yes, the one time he had spotted a pattern in the information Coulson had given him, Coulson had listened, had accepted Clint’s input - and they had been able to successfully finish a mission that had not looked good from the start. 

That was perhaps the most surprising thing about Coulson, he didn’t treat Clint as stupid, listened to what he had to say. Unlike the handlers Clint had the misfortune to work with before.

“This doesn’t make sense…” a mumble in Clint’s ear brought him out of his thoughts.

“What’s wrong, sir?” Clint’s full attention was back on the case now.

“I just received new intel, the wife and children have been seen in New York just half an hour ago. Which is actually where they are supposed to be, not here in Seattle. Are you sure it was them earlier?”

“As sure as ever, sir.” Clint felt slightly insulted that of all things his eyesight was questioned here. “Unless it wasn’t them on the pictures I saw in the briefing.” His voice sounded a bit more snappish than he had intended, but he didn’t really care.

“Calm down, Barton. I’m not doubting you, I’ve asked because you’re the most likely to see through a disguise.” Clint could hear the eyeroll through the comm and couldn’t help but grin. There was nobody here to see him anyway.

“Sorry.” Huh, that was new, too; him wanting to apologize to a handler. “If it was a disguise, it was the best I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s what I thought.” A moment of silence on the comm. “Keep an eye on the windows, if you can see the target inside and get a clean shot, take it. And tell me if you notice anything that might be important.”

“Will do…” Clint’s eyes were already sweeping across the building, trying to spot movement behind one of the windows. There, the big double window on the second floor, someone was moving in that room. It took a few seconds to adjust the scope, then he could look into the room, make out faces. “What the fuck?” One moment the wife and children were standing there, then they vanished in front of his eyes, changed. Suddenly the mark and two shady looking men (criminals, low on the ladder, probably trying to rise up through making a deal with their target) were standing in their exact places. He could worry about what had happened later, now he had to decide what to do. Taking a shot through the window from this distance was a risk, but one he would be willing to take.

“Have a shot, not 100% clear, but worth the risk.” While he informed Coulson, he adjusted the rifle on its stand, aiming at the mark’s head. Even considering the wind, distance and any trouble the window might give him, he should be able to take the guy out with a single shot.

“Take it!” The second he heard Coulson’s answer, he pulled the trigger, saw the target drop a moment later. 

“Got him.” Clint was already disassembling his rifle and throwing it into a battered gym bag.

“Then get out of there,” Coulson ordered, “and go off comms.” A click in Clint’s ear, then silence.

Clint hurriedly finished packing up, then carefully made his way down from the roof, through the building and vanished into a group of pedestrians. His faded black jeans and dark shirt wouldn’t attract any attention, nor would the ratty looking gym bag he had thrown over his shoulder. 

Still, he had to get away from here, as far away from any possible sniper’s nest as he could manage. Wouldn’t do to get captured, not that he ever had been before SHIELD got a hold of him. He was used to vanishing in a crowd, had honed the skill over more years than he would like to admit even to himself. This was new, though, he had a network to fall back on, safe houses, transport out of the area.

Half an hour of seemingly random twists and turns later, Clint entered their safe house - to find Coulson already sitting at the table with a cup of coffee. Coulson nodded to the coffee maker - pot was still mostly full - and Clint grabbed a mug for himself, filled it and brought the coffee pot over. Between him and Coulson there would be no time for the coffee to go cold. 

He sat down across from his handler and dropped the bag with his rifle next to his chair. This might be a SHIELD safe house, but Clint would never let his equipment out of easy reach.

“So, what was going on there?” Coulson asked.

Clint recounted what he had seen. “I know, it makes no fucking sense.” He shrugged. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was magic.” Clint huffed a half-laugh at the thought. “Not that magic exists, so, ya know, I’ve got no idea what the fuck happened.”

Coulson just looked at him, considering his words, then shrugged as well. “Whatever it was, I guess we’ll never find out, we don’t have anyone on the inside.”

“You’re believing me?”

“Why not?” Coulson gave him a disbelieving look. “I know you’re not a liar, Barton. And I have seen evidence that the wife and kids are on the other side of the continent right now. So why on earth shouldn’t I believe you?”

“Maybe because it sounds crazy? Like something only a stupid ex-carnie could believe in?”

Coulson laughed out loud at that. “Right, because SHIELD makes a habit of employing stupid people.” When he noticed Clint’s surprised expression he sobered up. “Do you really believe that? I wouldn’t value your input if I thought you were stupid, Barton. And what does it matter that you’re an ex-carnie? It gave you a unique skill set, you should be proud of that.”

A small smile spread on Clint’s face, he couldn’t help it. Coulson spoke with utter conviction, unlike so many others. Clint didn’t even know how long it had been since the last time his past hadn’t been made fun of, that he didn’t feel looked down at. Nobody had ever told him to be proud of his past and what he had learned through it. Since his childhood he’d been called a freak, stupid carnie, useless, worthless, trash - he had begun to believe it himself. At least part of him couldn’t quiet the voices in his head still calling him things like that. And now here was Coulson, treating him as an equal. 

“So what do _you_ think it was, Coulson?” Clint tried to hide the pride and slight embarrassment he felt after being complimented like this.

“Your guess is as good as mine, I have no better explanation than yours.” He shrugged, then drained his coffee cup only to refill it immediately. “Magic, some kind of cloaking technology we haven’t heard about, mass hallucination… doesn’t really matter though.” He paused for a moment and looked up at Clint. “You got the job done, despite the difficulties, that’s what counts.”

“And you’re not curious about this?” Clint arched an eyebrow in disbelief. “Because I sure am, I don’t like when I can’t explain things. And it might happen again, would help to know what we’re dealing with and how to counteract it.”

“See, told you. You’re not stupid.” Coulson smiled at Clint. “Of course I want to know what it was, but I can’t do anything about it right now. We can just hope we could send someone in with the police or ambulance who can find out more - or that one of the mark’s associates will talk. Otherwise we’re shit out of luck.”

“Will you tell me?” Clint tried to take another sip of his coffee, only to find that his mug was already empty. He grabbed the coffee pot and poured himself the meagre remains, it wasn’t more than half a cup at most. 

“Sure, if I hear anything you’ll learn of it.” Coulson nodded at the now empty coffee pot. “You’re going to start another pot? After all you emptied this one.” 

“You tricked me, you’re just too lazy to do it yourself, so you left me a drizzle.” Clint pouted. Coulson just grinned at his exaggerated - and admittedly fake - outrage. “Okay, okay, I’m making more… but only because I need the caffeine if I want to stay awake until pick up, not for you.” 

Clint huffed out a breath and made a show of looking put out. Inside he was smiling, the banter between him and Coulson felt nice, completely natural. He really hoped he could keep Coulson as a handler, that he wouldn’t get tired of him like the ones he’d had before. Clint didn’t know what he’d do if he had to go back to a handler who didn’t treat him as an equal - especially now that he had gotten a taste of it. If he had to go back to the way things had been before Coulson came into his life, he might even make a run for it. Damn the consequences, he had managed on his own for a long time, he would again. Not that he wanted to, it was nice to have a safety net for a change - and someone to talk to who saw Clint as a person, not just as someone whose skills could be used for their own gain.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also follow me on [tumblr](http://selana1505.tumblr.com/), for fandom related posts, random ramblings and the occasional bit of fanfic


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